


Lull

by ImproperDancer



Series: Campaign Stories [4]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Caev Threla, D&D, Dungeons and Dragons, Elf, Human, Other, War, high elf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 21:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19858465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImproperDancer/pseuds/ImproperDancer
Summary: Windsor and Nine, with the tenuous alliance of Renrok, were successful. Their bold gambit had paid off and they took the city of Port Lucy. In the process they destroyed the North Gate, allowing their Orc Army to enter the city and they had all but destroyed the fleet at the harbour in the city. The forces in Port Lucy had surrendered and now Windsor, Nine and Renrok found themselves in full control of Port Lucy. Hours after the city's surrender the three leaders find themselves in the town hall offices, discussing what is to happen now.





	Lull

Smoke continued to block out the sea. The fires had been put out hours ago but the smouldering wrecks further out in the bay were difficult to reach and properly extinguish. The ship that had been at port were almost completely destroyed, dark columns of smoke rose into the sky. The smell of charred wood and gunpowder filled the air, even here in the city centre it was all that could be smelled whether you stood indoors or out. 

The sun was still hanging low in the sky, dawn having broken less than an hour ago. The city of Port Lucy was shed in a soft and warm golden light, the rooftops bathed in the rejuvenating light after a dark night. Shadows still loomed. The sun was not high enough to break over the high walls that surrounded the city. The walls cast lost and heavy shadows in the streets, the homes and shops standing in shadow while their rooves caught the glow of the sun. 

The streets were busy. They were always busy at dawn. Merchants and shopkeeps would be out and getting ready for a day of bartering and trying to earn their coin. Workers would be on their way to their work, whether it was heading to the harbour to prepare for a day out fishing in the bay or smartly dressed officials making their way to the town hall to spend the day filing documents and settling matters in the running of the city. There would be the light march of guards and soldiers as the night-shift were relieved of duty and a new rotation of armed guards began to open the gates of the cities and put out the torches on the walls.

They would, were it not for them. 

There were no merchants or shopkeeps in the streets, nor were there workers or city officials. No guards came to relieve the night shift. The streets were a loud and busy throng of soldiers who, but a few hours ago, had surrendered the city to their Orc invaders. Large groups of soldiers, Sunder Guard and Silver Crusade alike, marched through the streets. Each of these groups were flanked by Orcs. These were not the Half-Orcs that the people and soldiers of Port Lucy were accustomed to, however. These were True Orcs. They towered above everyone around them and stood with incomparable brawn. Their height was matched only by their width and girth, their shoulders alone dwarfing the average human soldier. They were impressive, but most importantly they were terrifying in so many numbers. They marched the disarmed soldiers through the streets towards the various barracks where they were met with other groups of soldiers and Orcs. A queue had been forming where the soldiers and guards were stripped armour and all weapons, all of which were being stockpiled at the barracks. Once a soldier was stripped of their armour and weapons they were pushed away, told to go home and stay inside.

Obviously, it was not an easy or smooth process. Many of the soldiers took immense umbrage to the situation and were not afraid to voice such displeasure. Unfortunately, these were not the forces of a foreign kingdom or empire. No, these were fierce warriors of a vicious tribe. The Orcs dealt with these soldiers violently. Noses were broken against Orc knuckles, ribs cracked with the handle of large axes. Protests were swiftly and crudely dealt with. The Orcs were restrained, however. Under normal circumstances it is quite likely that there would not have ever been a rounding-up of surrendered forces. There would have been blood spilled and bones shattered. As it were, the Orcs were handling the situation as their chief had told them. They were not happy about this oddly peaceful operation but they obeyed their chief.

“It is unwise to let them live.”

Renrok stood in the office, his head but an inch from the ceiling. He had his thick, muscular arms folded at his barrel chest. His axe hung at his waist, uncharacteristically devoid of blood. He spoke slowly to ensure his remark was clear and not to be ignored, his gruff baritone filling the finely decorated office.

“You should not let this many soldiers remain. They will cause only trouble. Not to mention they outnumber us ten-to-one.”

There was a heavy, pregnant pause. 

Windsor was standing by the tall, wide windows which looked out upon the city from this high point in the town hall offices, this room set into the south-western corner. He could see so much of the town from here from the harbour, a smouldering and burning mess, all the way to the North Gate, of which very little remained after Nine obliterated it. He stood with his back straight and shoulders set firmly back. His hands were clasped firmly behind his back, the knuckles white from the grip he had. His rapiers hung at his side, no scabbards but they remained shining and clean. His eyes were hard and they were distant. He did not look at the city before him. His eyes were focussed further afield. 

“Are you listening to me, Windsor? We should not let them-“

“They are prisoners of war and as such they are protected” Windsor interrupted, not moving from his position, “They are not be harmed, Renrok.”

Windsor turned, keeping his posture straight and in perfect poise. He was, first and foremost, a military man of noble birth. He knew how to hold himself in this situation and he would not falter. He could not falter, that was not an option.

“Your tribe will continue with their task until every soldier has been disarmed, de-armoured and sent home. We will then discuss how next to proceed with holding Port Lucy.” Windsor spoke quietly but with a firm, composed voice. The last two four-days with Renrok and his tribe had been valuable insight in learning how to communicate with the True Orcs. He could not afford to dispense politeness or delicate courtly conversation. Renrok would only respond to someone who held themselves as a warrior, not a noble.

“My tribe will do as I command, Elf” Renrok asserted, taking a step forward, “They took this city and they will hold it how I deem fit.”

Windsor took a step toward the enormous Orc who barely fit in the lavishly polished office, “Your tribe took this city without a single scratch thanks to me, I am not taking command of your tribe, Renrok, but I am in command of this operation and how it unfolds” his hands unclasped and folded across his chest, “I am giving you this city but we do things my way to get to that point.”

Renrok stared Windsor down. They stood a few feet from each other, the space between them filled with the unbridled intensity of two warriors vying for control and power. The silence hung in the air, almost ringing in the steel of the blades that hung at the waist of the Orc and the Elf. 

A squeak and creaking wood broke the silence, followed by a soft thud of a boot on a table. At the desk in the centre of the room Nine leaned back in the soft, plush chair and placed two feet onto the immaculately polished mahogany desk. She had her elbows resting on the armrests of the chair as she held her fist in her hand, pointedly eyeballing Windsor and Renrok with something of an impatient glare. 

Renrok’s eyes darted over to Nine in her comfortable position, Windsor turning his head with a raised eyebrow to see what his comrade was up to. 

Nine met Renrok’s stare and then Windsor’s. She didn’t blink.

Renrok gave a long huff and rolled his shoulders, moving his hands onto his hips “I should go make sure my tribe haven’t killed any of your precious prisoners.”

Windsor turned back to face him “I would be extremely grateful if you did, Renrok.”

Renrok turned without another gesture and left the room, dipping and manoeuvring himself through to obviously too-small door, his heavy footsteps thumping down the corridor.

After a second a head popped through the door. A very, very timid looking Gnome with large spectacles and wiry brown hair scanned the room.

“Do, uh, d-do you want this door closed m-my lords?” she asked, her lip quivering as she spoke, her whole body practically shaking. She had been Ja’net’s intern who, unfortunately, had come into work today and found herself apparently a secretary to these three invaders.

“Yes please, Ka’renn, thank you very much,” Windsor spoke politely in a tone that could not be further from how he spoke to Renrok.

Ka’renn nodded quickly and gently swung the door shut.

Windsor sighed deeply, his shoulders dropping as she brought up a hand to rub his forehead.

“Renrok has a point, Windsor,” Nine said, her flat and frank tone always somewhat jarring to Windsor.

“I know Nine, I know” Windsor replied “But we’re not killing anyone we don’t absolutely have to. Minimal casualties.”

Nine shrugged, “So you’ve said. That’s your prerogative.”

Windsor glanced over to Nine. Her clothes were still a mess. Dried blood stained a large portion of her dress. Her hands had dry blood crusted on the knuckles and fingertips. At her side was This Is Reckoning, her poignantly macabre sword. It was, obviously, coated in blood. Nine had disappeared last night, after she had destroyed the North Gate. Windsor didn’t know where she had gone but she had returned head-to-toe covered in this blood. She offered no explanation other than “Silver Crusade” and he counted himself lucky for that.

This wasn’t just his fight. Windsor knew that. He was fighting to remove from power a man who should not be there, who was committing atrocities nobody was aware of and subduing people without their knowledge. Sure, Windsor was fighting for what he believe to be for the liberty of the people of Southern Morass. Nine was fighting for something far more simple.

Nine was fighting for revenge.

He had taken her deity, they believed. The information they had pointed towards the fact that Ichabod had captured, and wiped cleaned the world of, one of The Ascended. They believed that Nine was a follower of this particular Ascended. But they couldn’t remember. In capturing them, Ichabod had removed all knowledge, memory and evidence that they had ever existed. Nine had no memory of ever being a follower of this Ascended. And for that, Nine was going to destroy Ichabod. 

Windsor was just glad she was on his side.

“We should not keep three thousand soldiers in this city just so you can sleep better at night, Windsor” Nine looked at Windsor as she spoke, the stare from her one eye shredding through him and cutting into his soul. 

“We’re not going to keep them in the city,” Windsor began, running his hand through his hair, still not used to how short it was now “I’m going to begin a city wide evacuation and send everyone to Twintail.”

“That’s days away.”

He sighed, nodding to Nines comment, going back to the window overlooking the city, “Yeah, it’ll take days to get there but I’m not keeping everyone in this city when Ichabod is going to have the Silver Crusade and Sunder Army marching on Port Lucy to take it back.”

“We do not have to beat that army, Windsor” Nine said, sliding her feet off the desk and standing up, “We just need to find Kay’thelas and kill him.”

He turned to face her, his brow furrowed as he leaned forward to rest his hands on the windowsill, “I know what we have to do, Nine, but we are not going to let the people of this city suffer the consequences of our actions.”

“The people of this city will suffer as all people suffer, they are not exempt from what comes for them.”

Windsor grew more tense, his grip on the windowsill aching his fingers “If we can spare them a moments suffering then that’s what owe them. This is not their fight.”

“You’ve made it clear that your fight is for them. That sounds like it is their fight.”

The bluntness and startling insightful accuracy from Nine was something Windsor could never become accustomed to.

“There is going to be an army marching on this city and they are going to lay siege to it. I will not risk these people’s lives just so that we can kill one person, Nine.”

Nine folded her arms, her expression unchanging, “Nobody can avoid death, Windsor, if it comes for them then so be it.”

“I will not allow it to come for them.”

“Windsor, you cannot-“

“Yes I can!” Windsor slammed his fist on the windowsill. A crackle of green energy sparked from his clenched fist. His teeth began to grind as he clenched his jaw in frustration. The panes of glass shook as his fist struck the wood. 

There was a moment of silence, the only sound Windsor could hear was his own heartbeat as blood rushed through him. He closed his eyes tightly. He could see their faces. The visages of the soldier he commanded to lay down their arms hour ago. The commanders who spat at his feet as they passed him, escorted by Orcs. The Orcs, thirsty for blood and eager to cut down scores of bodies. 

Windsor opened his eyes and took a deep breath, turning to face Nine.

“We can spare their lives and do what we need to do. The next twenty four hours are going to be spent evacuating the city. Word of our taking of Port Lucy won’t reach until this afternoon if we’re unlucky but more likely it’ll take a full day. We have time. We will get the people out of the city so that it’s just the Orcs and us two. We’ll see what we can do with the commanders and soldiers, if we can win any number of them over to us and against Ichabod but right now we work on getting everyone out. Once that is done we focus on our plan on how to hold the city and how to get ourselves in front of Kay’thelas to kill him.”

As Windsor spoke, gesticulating as he talked to her, Nine stood stoic and silent. Her arms folded and her back straight. She barely blinked as Windsor spoke. He spoke with passion and poorly-hidden desperation. There was no doubt that Windsor truly believed in his plans and wanted no harm to come to the people of the city, but Nine was a pragmatist. There are always casualties in war.

“Have it your way, Windsor” Nine said a few seconds after Windsor had finished, “You do what you need to do and get everyone out of the city. At the very least we won’t have to worry about an uprising in that case. But we need a plan against Kay’thelas and his army.”

Windsor nodded, grateful that Nine would let him evacuate the people, “We do. We need a plan against a very big army that’s going to be outside those walls in a few days.”

Nine walked over to stand beside Windsor. She looked out the windows, surveying the city with her eye drawn to the still-smouldering harbour. Her gaze scanned across the city, along the walls and over the East Gate and over to the destroyed North Gate. After a long moment, her eye darting as she absorbed the view, she turned her head to look at Windsor.

“Do you have a plan, Windsor?”

Windsor looked at Nine for a moment before breaking her gaze. He looked out the window to the south, but he did not look to the harbour.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, almost to himself, “I have a plan.”

South of the town hall there was a tall and imposing structure that almost dominated the skyline. Against the backdrop of the billowing columns of smoke that rose and towered from the charred harbour was the tallest building in Port Lucy. Jutting into the sky the Airship Tower stood proudly, several large airships moored to the docking stations by rope and chain. 

Windsor looked to these airships with an uneasy hope.


End file.
